Suddenly, Rowland Is A Longtime Opponent Of Casinos

October 13, 2002|By Michele Jacklin

A second after U.S. Rep. Rob Simmons blurted out the words, he wanted to take them back. ``I'm glad he's changed his position on this,'' the 2nd District congressman had said, a reference to Gov. John G. Rowland's reversal on casino gambling.

``Don't get me in trouble,'' Simmons implored, realizing that he had inadvertently confirmed what most people already knew to be true: The governor's opposition to another casino in Connecticut was a latter-day, pre-election conversion.

Get Simmons in trouble? Moi? Perish the thought. The facts are the facts.

In 1995, Rowland fought hard, albeit unsuccessfully, for a casino to be built in Bridgeport. Last November, when local officials in southeastern Connecticut asked for the governor's help in containing the growth of casinos, he told them: ``Not my role.'' In April of this year, his spokesman said the governor wouldn't take sides in the tug of war between the Indian tribes and anti-casino factions.

The following month, a bill that would have repealed the state's Las Vegas Nights law, which permits tribes to engage in casino gambling, died in the House. The governor said recently that he wasn't aware of the measure. His denial is implausible or his staff is inept.

The bill, sponsored by Rep. Jefferson Davis of Pomfret, was approved by the Planning and Development Committee, where it had attracted gobs of publicity, including stories and a column in this newspaper. The governor's aides are supposed to monitor the flow of legislation, red-flagging proposals that are high-profile or controversial. If the governor wasn't told of the bill's existence, someone in his office was asleep on the job.

That notwithstanding, in June, after the Eastern Pequots were granted federal recognition and the likelihood of another casino increased, Rowland's spokesman again said that the governor ``doesn't have a role'' to play. Indeed, Rowland told this columnist that he wouldn't comment on the Eastern Pequots' recognition because he could be in the position of having to negotiate a gaming compact with the tribe.

All in all, Rowland has ``long taken a hands-off approach to tribal recognition and tribal gambling issues,'' the Associated Press reported.

Those, ladies and gentlemen, are the facts.

But now, the facts according to John Rowland: Since the '95 Bridgeport debacle, the governor has always opposed casino expansion. A mid-September TV ad says so. Spokesman Chris Cooper says so. And if you still don't believe it, the governor himself now says so. What's more, he insists he hasn't flip-flopped, despite Cooper's Sept. 12 admission that ``the landscape changed. The governor has been listening to the people.'' Or the pollsters.

Undoubtedly, the findings of two nonpartisan polls released in early October mirrored what Rowland's internal polls were turning up: growing opposition across the state to more casinos.

A survey of 762 residents by the University of Connecticut found that 56 percent oppose a third casino, while 35 percent support the idea. The location -- whether in Bridgeport, Danbury or southeastern Connecticut -- made no difference to respondents.

In a Quinnipiac University poll of 1,518 registered voters, 68 percent said they either strongly or somewhat oppose another casino, while 25 percent are strongly or somewhat in favor.

But even that doesn't tell the whole story. The anti-casino fervor is strongest in pockets of the state, and there's no more crucial a pocket to a Republican governor than vote-rich Fairfield County, where both the Schaghticoke Indians and the Golden Hill Paugussetts are hoping to open casinos, assuming they win federal recognition.

Sen. William Nickerson of Greenwich considers casinos the ``overarching issue,'' and says not a day goes by that he doesn't hear from a constituent. Area residents, who are being assiduously courted by Democratic gubernatorial aspirant Bill Curry, are worried about snarled highways, worsening pollution and crime, and plunging property values.

A traffic study predicts that if a casino is built, extraordinary levels of congestion ``would bring I-95 to a standstill for 10 to 14 hours per day.''

The facts are the facts. Given this latest set, Rob Simmons isn't alone in hailing the governor's altered position. John Rowland knows which way the casino winds are blowing.

Michele Jacklin is The Courant's political columnist. Her column appears every Wednesday and Sunday. To leave her a comment, please call 860-241-3163.